


Bleed

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up in the bunker, bleeding to death, with no idea what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> Another one written for the Oh Sam prompt meme.

The pain hit him hard and fast, sapped his strength, made breathing feel like too much of an effort to really be worth it.

Sam lay there, no choice but to let it hold him under until he at least felt like moving wouldn’t end him. Finally, he was able to roll carefully onto his side, and from there get what information he could on where he was, what had happened to cause him to be lying on the cold floor.

He recognised the table – their table, with the few steps leading into the kitchen just visible beyond that. So he was in the bunker.

Ok.

He was hurt. How bad, he wasn’t sure, but being unconscious for an indeterminate period was never a good sign. And he was…wet. He tried to push himself at least half way upright and his hand touched something sticky and warm. Even before he lifted his hand to look at it, he knew what he’d find, so wasn’t surprised to see his skin covered in red.

Not ok.

He took slower, deeper breaths, trying to keep himself calm. If he was bleeding, then he’d taken a hit, and he managed to sit all the way upright so he could start checking himself out. From the amount of blood on the floor, it either wasn’t a deep wound or hadn’t hit anything vital, or it had only just happened.

In which case he needed help, fast.

“Dean! Dean, I’m hurt, get down here!”

His voice echoed away down the corridors of the bunker, but the expected rush of footsteps never came. 

“Dean!” Maybe he was in one of the further rooms, maybe he hadn’t heard him. But Sam knew the bunker was built…weird. He didn’t know what the Men of Letters were on when they’d designed the place but wherever you were when you called out, the person you were talking to seemed to hear it. It was freaky, but he wasn’t about to knock it.

Still, there was no answer which meant one of two things. Either Dean wasn’t in the bunker, in which case where the hell was he, or he was hurt somewhere too, and unable to respond.

That thought drove him to try to stand. He grabbed the table, hauled himself up on legs that were too weak and shaky to support him, and ended up lying flat on the table top. He gripped the sides to keep himself there, because he knew if he went down he wasn’t getting back up.

But all the same he couldn’t move, and now the front of his shirt was starting to stick to him. So were his pants. In fact, everything, and he wanted to believe it was sweat but somehow he knew better.

What was going on?

::::

“Sam.”

Sam almost sobbed when he heard the voice call his name. His legs had long since given out, and his arms were shaking so bad that they hurt. The bleeding was worse now. He didn’t understand it but it was like he was sweating blood. That was the only explanation, and he didn’t know how long it would take to lose enough blood through his pores to die from it, but he felt like he was well on the way there.

“Cas! Cas, help me!”

Strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him easily from the table. The room spun at the movement and he grabbed unashamedly at Castiel, desperate for something solid and secure and safe to hold on to.

Castiel bore him to the ground and Sam realised the angel was sitting cross legged on the floor with him in his lap.

The blood. He was sitting in the blood, and Sam was getting more blood on him.

He tried to pull away, because there was something wrong with his blood.

“Stop fighting me,” Cas ordered, and his voice was rough, low. Sam obeyed, going limp in his arms, and looked up desperately at him.

“I can’t find Dean, he’s not here. Cas, this might be happening to him!”

“It’s not,” Castiel said. “Only you, but I can heal you, Sam. You have to keep still.”

Castiel’s eyes changed then; they burned with a cold fire Sam was sure could end him if the angel chose to do so. It hurt, whatever Castiel was doing, and Sam cried out. Maybe Cas had had enough of him. Of them. Of the hurt, and the abandonment, of them turning their backs on him when he needed them most.

Of all the sacrifices he’d made for them which had earned him nothing but hurt in return.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, sure it would make no difference, but needing Cas to hear it and know it anyway.

Castiel ran a hand through Sam’s hair, fondly. “Sam,” he said, and then with a final sharp stab of pain it was done.

He lay there, panting, in the angel’s arms for a few moments, as his strength leeched back into him, and then started to get up. Cas helped, setting him on his feet, away from the puddle of blood on the floor.

Sam noticed the angel was keeping between it and him, and he kind of wanted to hug him at that moment.

“What do you remember, Sam?”

With his hands braced on the table, Sam closed his eyes. Castiel’s hand was on his lower back, supporting, grounding, and he felt his memories stir and surface.

The nix. She had a hold of the boy, trying to drag him under the water, and then Castiel was wrenching the child free and he….

He’d taken the opportunity to stab her in the chest with the sword the angel had found for him, the only chance they had at killing her.

“She cursed me,” he managed. “To bleed out?”

He looked up to see Castiel nod. “The sword didn’t finish her completely,” he said, which Sam supposed was Castiel’s polite way of telling him he’d missed. “I had to send you here so I could kill her.”

“But Dean. He isn’t here.” And now that his recollection was clearer, he realised his brother hadn’t been there, either. “Cas….”

Castiel helped him straighten up and put his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Sam. Dean’s in Colorado. He’s helping another hunter there, you know this.”

The doubt must have shown on his face, because Castiel took his phone out of his pocket and a moment later pushed it into his hand. Sam put it to his ear, listened to it ringing, and then his brother’s voice was there.

“Cas? You guys ok?”

Sam couldn’t speak for a moment, but he knew he’d better or Dean would think something was wrong.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, we’re good.”


End file.
